The Cairene

On a boring afternoon of a tasteless Tuesday, I decided to put on my dilapidated ivory converse and take a walk around the C-town. I wasn't so sure that I am strong enough to leave the house without a single penny, but I knew I am not powerless- not too powerful though.   I roamed around the streets, aimlessly and observed all the details, the blotted out ones, the presented ones,  and even more, I observed the nothingness. Old buildings encircled me as I walked, with the shops and retails armoring the entrance of, almost, every ageing building. The sound of shishas’ water being blown, the dices being thrown along with the aching sound cracked slow laughs of old men bring back my parents’ picture of long-gone youth into my mind. My wounds were touched as I watched these grey men play, laugh, frown and lour as if they are back to being kids again. The embarrassment threw cold breeze along my spine, yet  I caught up myself smiling every time a grizzly-headed cheered after ...

We keep needing things in lives and never get them. We keep getting getting other things in live and stop needing them. It makes us humans, but. I have been trying to think of something to write after 'but' and nothing to be jotted down. I think it's the humans' nature of wanting things or losing interest in whatever they own? We wait. We wait for many things, knowing that we are wasting hell of time of another things, but we wait. We wait for things we know that's not going to happen and things that we know we will never be getting; so much time wasted, but we still wait. I don't get the point of waiting because to me, the only thing worth waiting is basically a flight out of this place or for angels to take me by the hands. I wait.  I'm not quite sure why we aren't so concerned about time even though it's never on our favor, but what? We wait and waste some more time. Yes, I wait for too many unrealistic things and it's not even funny. Lately,...

It has been too long since I last left my house to listen to people in the street. For more than two months, I wasn’t really interested in listening to anyone, especially after I have been through a lot of personal problems. I wasn’t feeling excited about helping anyone anymore. I usually had unhealthy thoughts ringing in my head and telling me that people don’t really deserve me. I used to tell myself that I can’t even hold my own sh*t together to hold others’. I simply spent most of my time alone, yet, I was still lost. I couldn’t find myself in locking up myself in my room. However, I loved solitary. I loved every moment of it and considered it precious. I searched for myself, but I still couldn’t find me. I can’t deny that I have found a huge part, but there was still a missing piece in my soul’s puzzle. I searched for it everywhere, but nothing. Until, at last, I decided to love out of my bubble. I did. I took the cardboard, left my locked room and roamed around the streets ag...

I don't know what's the thing with my generation and how shallow we are getting. I don't know who to blame, but I am surprised how they used to tell me at primary school that I shouldn't colour outside the lines, and guess what now? They want me to think out of the box. I still don't get it and the questions wouldn't let me fall asleep as my cheek touches the pillow.

يو م الخميس اللي فات، نزلت الزمالك كالعادة اني بنزل في اليوم دة، كان اجازة رسمية "عيد تحرير سيناء" ف الزملك كانت شوارعها فاضية لحدّ ما،علي عكس طبيعتها كل ايام الخميس. قررت اني اتمشي شوية باليافطة بدّل ما افضل قاعدة في مكاني اللي ماكنش قيه روح اوي لغياب عمّ مصطفي اللي بيجلس جمب فرشة جرايد و كتب. اتمشيت في شارع البرازيل و انا ماشية لمحت عامل من العُمّال اللي في محل الكاب-كيكز الشهير “Nola Cupcakes” بيدّي طفل صُغيّر من اطفال الشوارع قطعة كاب-كيك، و علي بُعد خطويتن تجلس امراة عجوز و تطلب من العامل انه يدّيها قطعة ليها هيَّ كمان. اقتربت و سالتني الست المُسّنة: "ايه دة؟؟ مكتوب ايه؟؟". ردّيت عليها و قُلتلها مكتوب: "لو عاوز تتكلم عن اي حاجة، انا هاسمعك". فردت قائلة: "هتسمعييني ازاي؟ معاكي ميكريفون؟؟" ابتسمت و قلتلها: "لا، انا باسمع الناس عشان اساعدهم، بس انا مش وعايا ميكريفون ولا بصوّر". فردت: "اه، حسنة يعني، ربنا يكرمك يا بنتي و يجعله في ميزان حساناتك". افتكرت موقف الكاب-كيك و سالتها "انتي عايزة واحدة؟" فردت عليّا...

On my way to university, the bus passed by an Elementary public school. It was the morning line where all the young girls are veiled. I don't understand. Why do traditions steal their innocence and childhood at the very beginning of their life? I don't think their age exceed 10 years old and it's really sad. Aren't they beautiful young girls? Don't they have the rights to enjoy their hair like all  the other girls from higher classes? The funny thing is that the people need to know that it won't make their girls go the way the want? Veil is not a matter of covering your head and I am pretty sure when these young girls grow up, they won't be so convinced although it could be the time when they are obliged to wear it according to Islam's rules. I find it equally similar to Child Labour because it's unfair. It's not a matter of acknowledgement, it's an educational problem. This society needs to be educated so we get rid of many more issues aga...

I know this topic is too repetitive, but I couldn't help not writing about it. Yesterday I was in Zamalek at 3.00 pm. I saw a red-head foreigner, who seemed to be in her thirties, walking down the street uncomfortably with fast steps, and t hen I noticed two Egyptian guys walking behind her and uttering few words that I couldn't actually recognize. The woman was trying to escape from them, and even tried looking to the other people in the street, but of course nobody moved an inch. I was in the Taxi when I saw her taking a a side to pretend to be getting into the pharmacy or looking at its vitrine(display cabinet). It saddened me that she wasn't even wearing any kind of revealing clothes, even if she was, it would still be sad. It saddened me more the fact that there was nothing catchy to look for at the PHARMACY'S Vitrine, I mean, who stop to stare at what the pharmacy is displaying? She did that till the boys kept on walking as she took that side. They really walked ...

As much as I am sure I would never tolerate living in slums, I find life there so beautiful. In its simplicity and roughness, I find my mind in contradiction. The houses are all unfinished, made of red bricks and usually with no roofs. I wouldn’t refer to them as shelters; they don’t look like they are. Their walls are full of cracks and their roofs are full of gaps which are usually closed by some unwanted pieces of things that I couldn’t even recognize; most importantly, the gaps are slightly closed, enough to not let the rain water dive in although I am sure the cold air manages to get to the reckless people living below. I am amazed by how the people find “home” behind those cracked walls. Crossed by the clothes hanged on ropes and realizing the repetitive technique that every house uses to hang their clothes, you’d be left with a smile on your face. The larger cloth is usually hanged at the last rope, and the size gets smaller as you reach the first rope where you find tiny ...

This is me around Zamalek, Cairo. I started this thing because of a personal experience that has inspired me a lot.  I listen to strangers talk to me about anything they want. I get the most random stories and many other touching ones. I don't promise them to find a solution to every problem I hear, but I try to help as much as I can through showing the strangers so much attention. I care enough so that they feel comfortable to open up to me. This idea has been done in many  places around the world, but never in Egypt. I decided to do it here since we know life is not easy here, and everyone is probably having heavy loads on their shoulders. I don't take all their lifts on my own chest, but I do my best to help them remove theirs. I have been doing it since 3 days, and I am glad to say that I have successfully watched many strangers walk away with a smile on their faces. That's all what matters. Point is, even if you won't solve their problems, at least you listen ...

Right away after 25 January, 2010, people were hopeful. We were all being injected with that dose of Freedom that made us all happy. Everyone was walking in the street with a smile on their faces while bragging about how we toppled the old regime down. We were, literally, on the other side where the grass is greener.  A year passed.  Islamist and MB had more control, but we were still hoping. We c onvinced ourselves that they will not kill our hopes that got up too high after the previous year's achievement. We were all dreamers, with nightmares included. We just wanted to get rid of SCAF to be able to start ahead. Egypt was wounded; we either could have stopped the wound to make it leave a memorable scar, or leave her to bleed till she dies. Another year passed. (We learnt it the hard way). We kinda tried to heal Egypt's wound, but it wasn't the perfect bandage. It didn't fit so well, and Egypt kept bleeding more. Today, I was in Tahrir. It was so different and sad. It...